Judy Nickles's Blog, page 10

Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland - Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN




            I didn’t
hear from Delores or Rudy, but I made a few calls of my own. Mr. White told me
what I already knew—that the second appraisal would be lower. “That’s not
necessarily unusual,” he said. “Did Parker Aiken hint at the buyer’s offer?”

            “We really
didn’t get that far. I think I threw him when I said I already had a dollar
value.”

            “You
probably did. I’m sure he wasn’t expecting a business-savvy woman.”

            “He’ll
probably get back with me pretty quickly. I have a feeling he wants to move on
this ASAP.”

            “He does. I
happen to know—don’t ask me how—he’s closing tomorrow on a building two doors
down from the Lloyd House.”

            I formed a
picture of the street in my mind. “The old bakery?”

            “Yes. It’s
been empty for years.”

            “This all
happened pretty quickly, didn’t it? Everybody moving out of downtown, I mean.”

            Mr. White
hesitated. “It all started about the time the city found multiple code
violations in the courthouse. The mall was built the next year, and a general
exodus took place.”

            “Are you saying
the courthouse is really all right?”

            “I’m saying
there are those of us who wonder. It’s an old building all right, but Galen
Ellard had an office there, and he kept an eye on things. Parker Aiken was on
the city council when the inspectors were called in because of some
complaints.”

            “Who
complained?”

            “That’s
just it—nobody really knows. If you do decide to sell, Beatrice, let me
represent you. No charge—just a favor for your grandfather.”

            “I
appreciate that, Mr. White.  I’m going to
call my attorney in Dallas, and I’ll probably have him get in touch with you
just so you can fill him in on the legal facts about the building.”

            “It
wouldn’t hurt. Have him call me whenever you like.”

            After I
hung up, I did call Ben Cullen. He and his wife Kim, though fifteen years older
than Ned and me, had become our best friends when we were stationed in Texas
before Ned’s first deployment. His secretary told me he was in court but she’d
have him call me.

            “Never
mind,” I said. “I’ll email him everything, and then he can call me if he has
questions.

            I unpacked
my laptop and took it downstairs to the business center where I could connect
to the internet. Wifii hadn’t made it to the rooms yet. I’d just finished the
lengthy communication when my cell phone rang. I was tempted to ignore it,
thinking it might be my mother again, but my father’s name came up on the
caller ID.

            “What’s
going on, Trixie?” he asked. Trust Daddy to get right to the point, but it was
one of his endearing qualities. I always knew where I stood with him.

            “You’ve
heard from Mother, I suppose.”

            “I suppose.”
He chuckled. “Come on, Trix, lighten up on your mother.”

            “As soon as
she lightens up on me.”

            “She seems
very anxious for you to sell the building your grandfather left you.”

            “Yeah, she
and her boyfriend.”

            “Guy
Langworth.”

            “You know
about him?”

            “I still
have friends in Dreamland.”

            “And what
do they say about him?”

            “Nothing
good.”

            “He beat
out Galen Ellard for mayor in the last election.”

            “That’s why
they don’t like him.”

            “I don’t
like him either.” I glanced around, but no one was within earshot of my
conversation.

            “You’ve
been in touch with Lawrence White, I guess.”

            “Yes.”

            “That’s
good. He won’t steer you wrong. I hope you’re coming to Mountain View while
you’re in Arkansas. Corey and Cassie would like to see you, and so would their
mother and I.”

            “I’ll make
sure to get there before I go back to Dallas.”

            “Good.
We’ll leave the latchstring out.”

            “Thanks,
Daddy. I’ll be in touch.”

            I clicked
off thinking about my half-brother and sister. They were more like a niece and
nephew because of the age gap, but we had a good relationship. I had a good
relationship with their mother, too. Susan had told me straight out she didn’t
want to be my stepmother but rather my friend, and that suited me. She was only
six years older than I was when she married Daddy—twenty-five to my nineteen—so
we spoke the same language and got along well from the beginning. Ned had liked
her, too.

            I packed up
my laptop and went back upstairs thinking of Ned. We’d have had a baby by now.
In fact, I’d hoped I was pregnant when he died, but it turned out to be a false
alarm. I buried my hopes with him and went on, but even now, when I thought of
the stupid training accident and how a few seconds had finished Ned’s life and
changed mine forever, I got mad.

            For a few
minutes I toyed with the idea of calling Delores, but she was still at work,
and she’d been honest with me that contact between the two of us could
jeopardize her job. At loose ends, I went back downstairs to my car and drove
out to the new mall.

*****

            Rudy had
been right when he said it was nothing like we had in Dallas, but it’s single
level held a nice variety of businesses, including the two big department
stores—Sears and J.C. Penney—which had flourished downtown for years and seemed
to be doing well now. I browsed the shops in between and finally found my way
to the food court where I had a choice of Chinese, Mexican, Italian, and plain
old American. I ordered fried rice, sweet and sour chicken, and won-ton soup,
and settled in at a table where I could see people come and go.

            I’d almost
finished eating when I saw Guy Langworth and a younger man walk by. They stood
for a moment at one of the kiosks, obviously disagreeing about something, and
finally Guy stalked off. The younger man watched him go, then turned and
entered the food court, passing close enough to my table that I caught the
scent of his aftershave.

            “Hey,” I
said without thinking.

            He stopped.
“I beg your pardon?”

            I shook my
head. “Sorry. I just noticed you with Mr. Langworth and wondered…”

            His face
turned red. “And that’s your business because?”

            “It’s none
of my business at all,” I said. “The two of you were having an argument from
what I could tell, and I just thought he’d had a bad day. I threw a verbal
punch at him this morning.”

            The man’s
face relaxed a little. “You. You’re the one who set him off.”

            I smiled
sweetly. “I guess I did. You know who I am, but I don’t know you.”

            He closed
his eyes briefly, then glanced at the empty chair. “May I sit down?”

            “Please do.
The fried rice is good.”

            “I just
lost my appetite. A dust-up with him does it every time. My name is Mitch
Langworth. I’m his son.”

            “Should I
offer sympathy or congratulations?”

            “Neither
one, I guess. I’ve put up with him for thirty-four years, so I should be used
to it.”

            “I’m Trixie
Collier Blake, but I guess you know that.”

            “Lorraine’s
daughter.”

            “Right.”

            “You have
my sympathy.”

            I laughed.
“Thanks.”

            He looked
around. “I may have gotten my appetite back. Hang on while I go grab a taco.”

            “I’m in no
hurry.”

            I watched
him standing in line at the Mexican food booth and observed that he was easy on
the eyes: tall, well-built, blonde, and fashionably dressed. Ned had been just
two inches taller than me, dark, and, when he wasn’t in uniform, a slouch. I
bit my lip. And I’d loved him better than life.

            Mitch came
back balancing two tacos, and order of tortilla chips with cheese sauce, and a
large soda in his well-manicured hands. “So how do you know about me?” I asked.

            He unwrapped
a taco. “Please. Let me enjoy my dinner. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

            “Well, if
the subject gives you indigestion…”

            He took a
big bite and appeared to savor it. “Not bad, Trixie Blake Collier.”

            “Trixie
Collier Blake.”

            “Oh,
sorry.”

            “My husband
was in the air force. He died in a training accident three years ago.”

            His eyes
met mine. “I’m sorry. I lost my wife to congenital heart disease last year.”

            “I’m very
sorry for your loss.”

            “I guess
you learn to live with it.”

            “You don’t
have much choice.”

            He reached
for a tortilla chip and swiped it through the cheese dip. “I’m an attorney in
Little Rock,” he offered. “Just so you’ll know I’m on the up and up.”

            “Not an
ambulance chaser, huh?”

            He grinned.
“Nope. Real estate law.”

            I didn’t
like the sound of that, everything considered, but I tried to give him the
benefit of the doubt. “Are you sure you’re not chasing my ambulance?”

            “Huh? Oh,
right. The building.”

            “Why does
everybody know about my building?”

            He shook
his head. “I’m not getting into the fight. That’s what Dad and I quarreled
about.”

            “You’d
better explain that.”

            “Apparently
you own some property that somebody else wants, and you’re not giving it to
them. And I’m not about to lean on you to do it.”

            “That’s
good to know.”

            He crunched
another chip, then leaned across the table. “But Dad will lean on you—so watch
your back.”

Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland - Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX




            The clock
radio by my bed read nine-thirty when I woke the next morning. I’d waked almost
every hour on the hour through the night, and my body felt leaden as I sat up
and tried to get my thoughts together.

            The subtle warnings
from Rudy, Mr. White, and Delores bothered me more than my mother’s
disapproval. Warnings had substance; Mother’s pique was old-hat. I thought I’d
learned to live with her manipulative behavior, but brazenly bringing in her
boyfriend whom I hadn’t even met to put pressure on me stirred up all the old
feelings of resentment. She’d tried to run my life and then tossed me aside
when she decided I wasn’t conducive to the life she wanted to live.

            As I
dressed—deliberately casual in more jeans and a slightly-dressier  blue paisley silk blouse, substituting
sandals for sneakers—I tried to organize my day. I was already off to a late
start, but I’d grab something downstairs and then go see Parker Aiken, Jr. The
name itself puzzled me. Her father had been dead since before I graduated high
school, so why hadn’t he dropped the suffix on his name? It seemed a little
showy to me.

            Once I’d
listened to what he had to say—and gotten a numerical figure for the proposed
price—I’d tell him I’d be back in touch. And maybe I would. An empty building
would invite transients and vandals or just deteriorate from the elements, and
I’d have to pay taxes on it every year. I felt enough loyalty to my hometown to
want it to stay alive, and maybe turning a sparsely-populated downtown into an
industrial complex might be the answer. Then again, maybe it would do more harm
than good.

            I drank a
quick cup of coffee with a greasy doughnut in the empty hotel café. As I was
leaving, Guy Langworth materialized from the recesses of a leather chair in the
lobby. “Hello there. I was hoping to see you this morning.”

            I put my
back against the registration desk. “What about?”

            He gestured
toward a grouping of chairs. “Why don’t we sit down?”

            “I’m on my
way out,” I said.

            “I see.”

            I didn’t
like the way his eyes narrowed as they swept over me.

            “You can
say whatever’s on your mind right here,” I said, regretting the defiance that
crept into my voice.

            “I’d just
like to help you make a decision about the Quimby Building.”

            “That’s
what I’m trying to do.”

            “It won’t
do anyone any good sitting empty, and I doubt you’ll be overrun with people
wanting to open a business there.”

            “Probably
not,” I said.

            “So the
thing to do is make some money by selling it, wouldn’t you agree?”

            “Maybe.”

            “Have you
talked to Parker Aiken?”

            Before I
could censor my tongue I’d replied, “I was going to do that this morning.”

            “Good. I’ll
be glad to drive you.” He reached for my arm, but I shrugged it off. Even I was
horrified by what I said next.

            “You may
put your hands all over my mother, but don’t touch me.”

            He sucked
in his breath and glanced around to see who had heard me. The desk clerk
glanced up, then away, and went on with whatever he was doing. A passing
housekeeper gave us a wide berth.

            “That was
not only unnecessary but also rude,” he said, not stepping away from me.

            The edge of
the desk bit into my back. I gritted my teeth and moved to where I could walk
around the man. Fortunately, the elevator opened just as I reached it, and I
zipped inside and hit the button. As the door slid shut, I glimpsed Mr. Guy
Langworth still standing where I’d left him, and the expression on his face
told me I’d made an enemy.

            Delores
answered the phone when I called Parker Aiken’s office from my room. “I thought
I’d come by if he’s in,” I said.

            “He is. Do
you want me to tell him you’re on your way?”

            “Sure, go
ahead.”

            Her voice
dropped to a whisper. “It’s for the best.”

            “We’ll
see,” I said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

            Parker
Aiken had changed like everyone else. His body was heavier, his hair thinner,
and his greeting less sincere than I remembered when he was a city councilman
and spoke to our senior government class about the local political process. He
ushered me into his office and closed the door. “I was hoping you’d come by,”
he said, sitting down behind a massive desk too bulky for the small space.

            “I
understand you’re interested in buying my grandfather’s building,” I said.

            “I have a
buyer who’s interested.”

            “The same
person who wants to acquire the rest of downtown?”

            Something
flickered in his eyes. “As a matter of fact, it is. The downtown’s dying,
Beatrice. The courthouse is just this side of being condemned, and it’s too
expensive to fix the code violations. So it will come down eventually, and
we’ll rebuild out near the new mall. Have you seen that yet?”

            I shook my
head.

            “Everything’s
moving out that direction. With the highway running right into Main Street, the
downtown area is prime property for industrial development.”

            That made
sense, but I wasn’t going to admit it. “Will the Lloyd House be torn down? The
Quimby Building?”

            He chewed
his bottom lip for a few seconds before he answered. “I can’t tell you that for
sure. The Lloyd House is newer and could be renovated for office space. Your
grandfather’s building…well, that’s another story. I understand you have a
sentimental attachment to it, but time doesn’t stand still, unfortunately.
Things change.” He appeared to be tryingto gauge the effect of his words.

            “That’s
true enough,” I said, thinking I’d set an agreeable tone before we got down to
business. “What is your buyer offering?”

            Parker
Aiken’s eyebrows went up. Apparently he hadn’t expected me to go to the heart
of the matter so quickly. “You’d want to get the building appraised, of
course.”

            I patted
the briefcase-sized purse in my lap. “Mr. White gave me the appraisal
yesterday.”

            That piece
of information didn’t seem to go over well. “Who did the appraisal?”

            “Someone in
Little Rock.”

            “Do you
mind if I ask what value he set on the building?”

            “Not at
all. Two hundred twenty-five thousand.”

            The
realtor’s face flushed. “That’s insane!”

            I shrugged.


            “The buyer
would want a second appraisal.”

            “Of
course.” I hoped I wasn’t smiling.

            Parker
rubbed his liver-spotted hands together. “So I can assume you’d be interested
in selling if we can come to a fair price based on two appraisals?”

            “I’d be
interested in discussing it further,” I said, rising from my chair. “I’m
staying at the Lloyd House.” I fumbled in the outside pocket of my purse for my
business card case. “My cell phone number is on this.”

            He rose but
didn’t offer his hand. “All right. I’ll be in touch.”

            Delores
gave me a quick questioning glance as I left, but I just winked at her. Maybe
her curiosity would get the best of her, and she’d give me another call or come
by tonight. Maybe I could hint around again about how she and Rudy ought to get
back together.

            My cell
phone rang as I unlocked my car. “Beatrice.”

            “Good
morning, Mother.”

            “I don’t
appreciate your attitude. Your behavior is appalling.”

            “I don’t
appreciate your boyfriend trying to get into my business. Listen, Mother, I’ve
been on my own for three years, and I’m nobody’s fool. If I decide to sell the
Quimby Building, I’ll do it, and if I decide not to, I won’t.”

            “Not selling
would be crazy.”

            “Maybe so,
but it’s my decision. Was there anything else?”

            She hung up
on me.







           

           

Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland - Chapter Five

CHAPTER FIVE




            I wouldn’t
have recognized Delores if I hadn’t known in advance she’d be knocking on my
door. She’d been a peroxide blonde in high school, but she’d let her hair go
dark, and she looked much older. I remembered a curvy figure strutting in front
of the band, but the woman I greeted was too thin. She’d definitely lost the
spark which had once defined her.

            Hoping to
hide my feelings,I hugged her. She stiffened and pulled away. “Come on in,
Delores. It’s good to see you. The sandwiches just came up.”

            Her
tailored suit and low heels spoke of an office job, but I watched her shed her
business façade as she sprawled on the sofa and kicked off her shoes almost in
one motion. “It’s been a day,” she muttered.

            I brought
her a plate and a glass of tea from the tray on the credenza. “I know the
feeling. Where do you work?”

            Her eyes
cut away from me. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but…”

            “I haven’t
been back in town long enough to hear much.” That wasn’t strictly the truth,
but I had the feeling anything else would frighten her off.

            “I’m Parker
Aiken, Jr.’s private secretary.”

            I tried not
to show my surprise and failed. “Well,” I said.

            “I ran into
Rudy in the post office this afternoon. He said the two of you are going to
meet for a drink tonight at the Twilight.”

            “He’s made
a giant leap since high school,” I said, stalling for time to compose my
thoughts.

            “He
probably told you what Parker is trying to do. There’s no love lost between the
two of them since Rudy outbid him on the Twilight building.”

            “He
mentioned a few things,” I said. “I’m back here to see about the building my
grandfather left me a few years ago. It’s empty now, and…”

            “And Parker
Aiken wants it.”

            I nodded.

            “That’s why
I’m here, and if he finds out—Parker, that is—I could lose my job, and I really
need it.”

            “I’m not
going to tell anyone anything except that two high school friends got together
for a club sandwich.”

            She sat
drinking her tea in silence.

            “I was
sorry to hear that you and Rudy are separated.”

            “It’s a
long story. My mother was in an accident and can’t work, and you know about my
brother Danny.”

            I frowned,
trying to remember. “He’s special needs, isn’t he?”

            “Down
Syndrome, but he has a job sacking groceries at Landers Market, and he gets
SSI. He and Mom still needed her salary to get by, so I moved home and went to
work.”

            “You
couldn’t stay with Rudy and work?”

            “Not for
Parker Aiken, and he offered me more money than anyone else.”

            More money
for what? I wondered. “I see.” I shook my head. “No, I don’t see, not really,
but I hope things will work out. Rudy seems to think they will.”

            “He’s a
good man. We planned to start a family, but I had a miscarriage, and then Mom got
hit head-on by some kid out joy-riding. No insurance. He didn’t even show up
for his hearing, and nobody’s seen him since.”

            “I’m so
sorry, Delores.”

            “So am I.”

            “I’m still
in the dark about why you wanted to talk to me.”

            Her mouth
twisted. “Oh, that. I know Parker wants to buy your building. He already has a
buyer.”

            “Let me
guess—the same person or persons who want to buy up the whole downtown area.”

            She nodded.
“You didn’t hear it from me.”

            “Of course
not.”

            “My advice
is to let him have it.”

            “Why?”

            She shook
her head. “Do you really want it?”

            “I don’t
know. I don’t think so, but I’m not too happy about it being sold out from
under me without anyone asking what I want.”

            “I guess
you’re not, but it’s not worth fighting over.”

            “Fighting
over?”

            She
flushed. “Trixie, everyone liked you when we were in school because you treated everyone the same, you
and Ned both. You were friendly to me when I really needed someone to care, and
I’d like to return the favor. Just let Parker sell your building. He won’t
offer you what it’s worth, but you can negotiate the price to a decent amount.”

            I thought
about what she’d just said—and what she hadn’t said. “I’m not going to dig at
you for more information, Delores. I think I’m reading between the lines.”

            “Good.” She
wrapped the uneaten half of her sandwich in a napkin and stood up, fumbling
with her shoes. “I’ve got to go. Danny’s boss gives him a ride home from work
every afternoon, but I have to cook supper. Mom tries to get up and around, but
she usually makes a mess.”

            I walked
with her to the door. “I’m glad you came by, Delores. Maybe we can…”

            She shook
her head. “No, it’s not a good idea for us to be seen hanging out together.
Just take care of yourself.” She touched my arm before she hurried away down
the corridor.

            “Thanks for coming by,” I called
after her. She didn’t look back.

*****

            Still
wearing my jeans, I slipped across the street to the Twilight just before nine,
wondering if Rudy knew his wife had come to see me and, if he didn’t, if I
should tell him. The same waitress I’d seen the night before called me “Mrs. Blake” and showed me to the same back booth. Rudy joined me a few minutes
later.

            “How was
lunch with the mater?” he asked.

            I laughed.
“She brought along Guy Langworth.”

            He narrowed
his eyes. “The troops.”

            “Yes. It
was all about selling the building, of course. When I didn’t jump on the idea,
things got a little nasty.”

            He shook
his head. “Another cherry lime?”

            “I’ll
settle for some tea with lemon.”

            He motioned
to the waitress and told her what we wanted. Then he leaned across the table.
“Did you see Delores?”

            I nodded.

            “I hoped
she’d come to see you. That’s why I told her you were here when we ran into
each other at the post office.”

            “Thanks—I
guess.”

            “I’m not
going to ask what she told you, but she took a risk.”

            “I got that
impression.”

            “I blew a
gasket when she told me she was going to work for Parker Aiken, and we had one
hellacious fight. She moved home the next day.”

            “I remember
now her mother worked two jobs after Mr. Jefferson died when we were in sixth
grade.”

            Rudy
nodded. “Maybe it’s a good thing Delores is home with her mother and brother
for now, but I want her back.”

            “You’ll
make it happen, Rudy. Look what you’ve done with your life.” I waited until the
waitress put down our glasses and left. “I’m curious though. Why would Parker
Aiken hire your wife when he was on the outs with you over outbidding him on
this building?”

            “He’s a
dirty old man.” The venom in Rudy’s voice made me startle.

            “You don’t
mean he…”

            “How Dee
fends him off, I don’t know, but she wouldn’t give him the time of day outside
the office.”

            “Maybe he
hired her to get back at you.”

            “I’ve
thought of that.”

            “What about
his wife?”

            “She puts
up with him.”

            “That’s too
bad.”

            “Well, he’s
worth big bucks, and their son is grown. Perry Aiken, remember him? He was a
few years ahead of us.”

            “He was good-looking
but pretty arrogant as I remember.”

            “He still
is. He’s the assistant DA.”

            “The web
becomes more tangled.”

            “Listen,
Trix, about the building…if you want to hold onto it, I’ve got your back. I’d
buy it from you myself if this one was free and clear, but I can’t stretch my
capital right now.”

            “Thanks,
but I don’t really know what I want right now. Maybe I’m just digging in my
heels to get to my mother.”

            “She’s a
piece of work all right. So is Guy Langworth. Pardon me for saying so, but those
two were made for each other. I’m serious though. Take some time to think about
what you want. Go back to Dallas. Call me for updates. I'll keep an eye on things. No problem.”

            “My
assistant is taking care of the store, and she’s good. I don’t have to hurry
back. In fact, I have the feeling I need to stick around and see what’s what.”

            Rudy
nodded. “Just be careful. You’re going to be caught in the middle whatever you
do.”

            I felt a
chill that didn’t come from the air conditioning. “Mr. White said the same
thing. If Parker Aiken’s on one side, who’s squeezing me from the other?”

            Rudy
hesitated a full minute before he answered. “Galen Ellard. He’s convinced the
election was rigged, and he’s trying to muster his troops to push back against
the changes he knows are coming when the new mayor takes office.”

            “Do you
think it was rigged?”

            Again he
hesitated. “I don’t know." Hw shifted in the seat. "But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

*****

Later, Rudy stood on the curb
outside the Twilight and watched me cross the street to the hotel. Watching him
literally watch my back left me unsettled.

Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland - Chapter Four

CHAPTER FOUR




            My mother,
wearing a tailored khaki pantsuit accented with a necklace of carved wooden
beads, gazed with distaste at my jeans and pullover. “The Garden Spot is rather
upscale,” she said.

            “Would you
like for me to change?”

            She glanced
at her watch. “No, there’s not time. I made a reservation.”

            I slid into
her beige convertible. “Sorry about that.”

            “What have
you been up to this morning?”

            “I went to
see the Quimby Building, and then I spent about an hour with Mr. White. Did you
know Grandfather’s roll-top desk is still there?”

            “Is it? How
did you get into the building, Bea?”

            “Through
the back door.”

            “You have a
key?”

            I thought
of the one Mr. White had given me. “Yes.” What did it matter whether or not I’d
used it to get in?

            She seemed
to find that fact interesting. “I see. You’re welcome to the desk, of course.”

            “I thought
he took it with him since he worked at home the last few years.”

            “It was a
monstrosity. Mamma didn’t want it cluttering up the place.”

            “Oh. Well,
I always liked it. I’ll take it.”

            “What did
Lawrence White tell you?”

            “What
should he have told me?” I countered.

            She stopped
at a light and checked her beeping cell phone. “Nothing, I suppose. I thought
maybe you discussed the sale of the building.”

            “No, we
didn’t.”

            Half a
block later, Mother turned into the lot fronting a gazebo-shaped structure
surrounded with greenery. “The food here is quite good,” she commented.

            I was about
to reply when I caught sight of the man I now recognized as Guy Langworth and
knew instinctively he was waiting for us. “Mother, I thought we were going to
have lunch. Us, as in you and me.”

            “I asked
Guy to join us. It’s time you met him.”

            “I didn’t
know anything about him until last night. Are you getting married?”

            “Married?
Good heavens, no, but we’re…”

            “Never
mind,” I interrupted. “I don’t think I want to know.”

            Introductions
were stilted. I thought Guy’s handshake was limp and his smile pasted on.
Mother chattered non-stop as she scanned the menu. Guy nursed a glass of white
wine. When the waitress had gone with our orders, Mother said, “Bea has been to
see the building this morning.”

            From the
look on Guy’s face, he knew exactly which building she was talking about.

“A piece of history,” he observed in a neutral voice.

            “A piece of
my childhood,” I replied.

            “That’s
ridiculous, Bea. You weren’t there a handful of times.”

            “I used to
stop by every afternoon after school,” I said. “Granddad always kept candy for
me in his top drawer.”

            Mother
seemed surprised. “Oh.”

            Guy took
another sip of wine.

            “Guy will
be taking office as mayor of Dreamland in a few weeks,” Mother said. “He’s
quite excited about the possibilities for moving the town forward. Galen Ellard
just let things slide, and as a result we…”

            I
interrupted again. “That’s nice.”

            Our food
arrived quickly, and we ate in almost total silence. Over coffee and dessert,
Mother brought up the Quimby Building again. “You should see Parker Aiken, Jr.
this afternoon, Bea. As I told you, he has a buyer for the building, and you
could get everything taken care of before you go back to Dallas.”

            “Seeing as
it’s my building, I have to ask who
put it on the market?”

            “I don’t
like your tone, Bea.” For as long as I could remember, Mother had always
operated from a tactical offensive position.

            “I think it
was assumed you would want to turn it, especially after it came empty,” Guy
Langworth said, his tone intended to smooth the waters. “And Parker has
brokered quite a few sales in the downtown area.”

            I didn’t
look at the man. Lawrence White had confirmed everything Rudy had told me about
Parker Aiken’s dealings, and he’d left me with what could only be described as
a warning. “Be careful, Beatrice. You’ll find yourself caught in the middle no
matter what you do.”

            “I really
don’t know what I’m going to do with the building,” I said. “I haven’t had time
to think about it.”

            “What is
there to think about?” Mother’s impatience was unmistakable. “What do you want
with an old building in Arkansas when you live and work in Dallas?”

            “I don’t
know, Mother. When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

            She tossed
her napkin onto the table. “You do that.”

            Goodbyes
outside the restaurant were no more pleasant than the earlier introductions.
Mother’s last words to Guy were, “I’ll call you,” before she backed out and
headed for the hotel.

            “What does
Mr. Langworth do?” I asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence after two
blocks.

            “He’s an
oil developer.”

            “There’s no
oil around here.”

            “In Texas
and Oklahoma.”

            “Oh. Well,
what’s he doing in Dreamland, Arkansas?”

            “He has an
office in Little Rock.” Mother’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly
her knuckles were white, a sure sign she was angry.

            “But he
wanted to be mayor of a little town like this?”

            “It doesn’t
always have to be a little town,”
Mother said snappishly.

            “I suppose
not.”

            She didn’t
cut the engine when she angled the car into a parking space in front of the
Lloyd House. “I’d advise you to talk to Parker,” she said without looking at
me. “I don’t know why you’d even hesitate to get out from under that building
as quickly as you can, but maybe Parker can help you make up your mind.”

            “I’ll do
that, Mother.” I stepped out of the car but leaned back in so I could see her.
“Thanks for lunch.”

            When she
didn’t look at me or reply, I closed the door and stood on the curb watching
her drive away.

*****

            I was
trying to decide if I was hungry enough to go downstairs for supper when the
house phone rang. “Trixie? Trixie Baker?” a woman’s voice said.

            “Trixie
Collier,” I said. “Who’s this?”

            “Delores
Jefferson. Do you remember me?”

            “Of course,
I do. You were the best majorette in the whole band.”

            “I…thank
you. The reason I called…” Her voice trailed off.

            I waited,
and when she didn’t go on, I said, “Does this have anything to do with your
husband showing me the town this morning?”

            “Oh, no, I
mean…” She sounded a little breathless. “Listen, could we talk? We could meet
somewhere, or…”

            “Why don’t
you come up to my room? I was thinking of going downstairs for something to
eat, but maybe I could order up a couple of sandwiches.”

            “You don’t
have to do that.”

            “I’d like
to visit with you, Delores. We didn’t hang out together that much in high
school, but we’re classmates, after all.”

            “Well…if
you’re sure.”

            “I’m sure.
Is a club sandwich good for you?”

            “Anything.
I’m still at work, but I’ll be there in about half an hour.”

            I hung up,
sure that what she had to say wasn’t going to be anything good. Rudy said she’d
left him and not the other way around, so she shouldn’t be worried about him
seeing anyone else and certainly not me. He’d provided a lot of entertainment
in high school with his fairly harmless rebel ways, and now he’d turned into a
personable business man, someone to be trusted. But Rudy James didn’t ring any
romance bells with me, and he’d said flat out that he wanted to mend his broken
marriage.

            So why did
Delores seem so anxious to talk to me—and about what?

Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland - Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE




            “You can
get a better feel for things if we walk,” Rudy said as we left the hotel the
next morning after breakfast. “Let’s start at the end of Main with the Quimby
Building and work our way around the square.”

            “Suits me,”
I said, shouldering my leather purse, a knock-off of a name designer. I had an
aversion to paying designer prices even if I liked the product. My jeans were
the real thing though, purchased during a pity-party soon after Ned’s death.
They’d last forever.

            Few cars
moved down Main Street, once the heart of Dreamland, and fewer were parked
along the curb. “The flagship stores moved out to the mall,” Rudy said.

            “Dreamland
has a mall?”

            “Nothing
like you have in Dallas. It’s out past the high school. We’ll take the car to
see it later if you want to.”

            “So what’s
left besides the Lloyd House and the Twilight Bar?”

            “Well,
there’s Kemp’s Computer Repair,” Rudy said, gesturing toward the white stucco
building where the variety store had been. “Ken opened up about five years ago.
He does a good business. His wife Sara teaches at the elementary.”

            “Where did
the county offices go when they left the courthouse?”

            “Over there
in the old Central Bank Building. They tore down Carter’s Hardware to make an employee
parking lot.”

            “Andy
Carter closed up?”

            “He died,
and his wife couldn’t get a buyer for the store, so she sold off the inventory,
and the county bought the building and razed it.” Rudy stopped in front of the
two-story brick building I remembered from my earliest childhood. The letters
painted on the windows said Drake’s Apparel instead of Quimby Lloyd
Enterprises.

            I put my
nose against the glass and peered at the darkened interior.

            “Your key
will probably work on the front door,” Rudy said.

            “Key?” I
felt my face grow hot. “I don’t have a key, Rudy.”

            “Who does?”

            “Mr. White,
I guess. My grandfather’s lawyer. He’s been my contact about everything.”

            Rudy seemed
to be studying me.

            “I feel
like an idiot. I didn’t even think about a key.”

            “Never mind.”
He took my arm. “I can probably get us inside.” He hurried me around the corner
and down a short alley that dead-ended at a chipped concrete wall. Pulling out
his wallet, he extracted a credit card and slipped it neatly inside the door
near the knob. Then he jiggled and doorknob, and the door opened. “I’m a man of
many talents,” he said, standing aside to let me go in first.

            “Breaking
and entering?”

            “You’ll
want to put a deadbolt on that door if you do anything with this building. I
told the Drake sisters that more than once, but they didn’t seem too worried
about anyone coming in after hours.” He touched a light switch, and the stuffy
back room lit up. “I also told them to turn off the electricity when they
vacated.”

            “They don’t
sound too reliable. Maybe it’s a good thing they gave up their lease.”

            Rudy
shrugged and followed me into the main part of the first floor where display
cases and dress racks still took up space on the dusty mauve carpet.

            “Why is all
this stuff still here?”

            “Supposedly
someone from Little Rock was going to pick it up, but I guess not. I asked them
if they wanted to keep some minimal insurance in place until everything was
out, but they said no.”

            I ran my
fingers across the wooden top of a glass case. “This is an antique,” I said. “I
have some in my shop that I paid a pretty price for. All the department stores
got rid of these things years ago, and they’re hard to find now.”

            I walked
around the silent room. It had seemed larger to me as a child. My grandfather’s
roll-top desk had occupied one corner, and his secretary Paulette March had
kept things organized from her space in the opposite one. “Do you remember
Paulette March?” I asked.

            “I don’t
think so.”

            “She was
Granddad’s secretary for years until she died. That’s when he closed down the
office and worked from home until he died a few years later. I heard my
grandmother talking to my mother once when they didn’t know I was around. Gran
said Granddad and Paulette had been carrying on, as she put it, for years.”

            Rudy chuckled.
“A grand affair, huh?”

            “I
suppose.” I walked to the front door and glanced across the street at a
seedy-looking furniture rental store which didn’t seem to be open yet. “How did
the dress store make it in this location? I mean, I’m sure the mall has more to
offer.”

            “They
carried some pretty pricey stuff, but their money came mostly from the juniors’
line they offered. The high school crowd loved this place.”

            “Really?”

            “So I
heard. Want to go upstairs?”

            “I was
never up there.”

            “We passed
the stairs as we came out of the back room. I’ll go first and make sure it’s
safe.” Rudy found another light switch on the wall beside the stairs and
flicked it. “Right behind me,” he said.

            The second
floor was nothing but one huge, unfinished space, but the morning sun streamed
through a bank of windows on the front, catching the dust motes we stirred up
as they hung in the still air. “This would make a great loft apartment,” I
said. “I have one over my store in downtown Dallas.”

            “It has
possibilities, I guess,” Rudy said, “but it would take some money. I spent more
than I thought I would remodeling the Twilight. Of course, I’m making it back
now.”

            Then I
caught sight of Granddad’s old roll-top abandoned under one of the high windows
on the side. “Oh, my stars, look at that!” I hurried over to all but embrace
the solid piece.

            “Your
grandfather’s?”

            “I always
assumed he took it home and used it there, but now I can’t quite remember.”

My eyes filled up. “To tell you the truth, I never paid any
attention to anything when I’d come home to visit after Ned and I married. We
just paid a quick duty visit to everyone and left. And then we were in Spain
for a year and in Germany for two more, and…” I wiped my eyes with the back of
my hand. “There just wasn’t anything here for either one of us anymore. The
aunt and uncle who raised him moved away after he graduated and went off to the
Air Force Academy, and my parents weren’t together anymore.”

            “I knew
they divorced,” Rudy said, handing me a clean handkerchief.

            “Dad remarried
pretty quick. He and Susan have an eight-year-old and a six-year-old.”

            “Where do
they live?”

            “In
Mountain View. Susan works at the arts center, and Dad opened a hunting and
fishing supply store sort of like the one he had here. They love it there.”

            “So you see
them often?”

            “Not as
often as I should, and Corey and Cassie are growing up so fast. I like Susan
though. She’s been good for Dad. Mother never…” I blotted my eyes. “Well,
that’s old history.”

            “Ready to
go?”

            “Yes. Maybe
I should let Mr. White know I’m here and get that key.”

            “We’ll pick
up my car at the hotel, and I’ll drive you over.”

            We’d almost
reached the Lloyd House when my cell phone rang. “Beatrice, it’s Mother. Where
can I meet you for lunch?”

            “I don’t
know the town now. Where do you suggest?”

            “The Garden
Spot. I’ll pick you up. Eleven-thirty? We can beat the rush.”

            “That’s
fine, Mother. I’ll wait out front for you.”

            “Wonderful.
Ciao.” She hung up.

            I shook my
head. “My mother.”

            “I gathered
as much.”

            “I thought
I was going to stay with her, but it seems she had other plans. Something came
up, as she put it.”

            Rudy
nodded. “Guy Langworth.”

            “Who?”

            “Our
mayor-elect. He beat out Galen Ellard almost two to one in the local election
two weeks ago.”

            “A Robert
Mitchum type?”

            Rudy
grinned. “Yeah, that’s him.”

            “He was
getting off the elevator at Mother’s condo as I left. Who is he?”

            “An
outsider. Came here about five or six years ago. He says he’s an oil
developer.”

            “Oil around
Dreamland?”

            “No, Texas
somewhere.” Rudy unlocked his white Chrysler and opened the door for me.

            “I’ve got
to hash things out with Mother,” I said. “But I’m glad you told me about Parker
Aiken, Jr. And I want to hear about you and Delores.”

            “I’ve got
to drive to Little Rock this afternoon, but come over to the Twilight around
nine tonight, and we’ll talk more.”

            “All
right.”

            “Let me
give you my cell phone number, and I’ll run over to my office and check in
while you’re with Mr. White. You can call me to pick you up and take you back
to the hotel.”

            “I should’ve
just brought my car.”

            “No
problem. I’m not far from here.” He pulled to the curb in front of the
McDonough Building and handed me a business card. “Good luck.” He reached
across me to open the door.

            “Thanks…I
think.”

            He gave me
a thumbs up as I got out.

Second Time Around

Here's a link to a great article on "5 Tips for Marketing Your Novel The Second Time Around" by Dan McGirt. It came via Dana Lynn Smith's regular Savvy Bookmarketer Newsletter--a free subscription you shouldn't be without.



I must admit I've been thinking about reviving a couple of my earlier novels, specifically Where Is Papa's Shining Star? and its sequel Finding Papa's Shining Star. I'm not looking to take them back from the publisher who has graciously extended my contract for these two books--which, I might add, haven't sold as well as I'd like. Rather, I'm looking for ways to make them "new" again and find the right audience. I know it's out there--readers who like the sentimental romance and a glimpse back into lives lived during the eras of the Great Depression and WW II.



Dan McGirt has some good food for thought in his 5 tips. I like the "Word of mouth still works" approach.



Meanwhile, if you aren't familiar with the above-mentioned books and like that approach to love and life, visit my website and watch the video trailer for each one, then read the first chapters.

Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland - Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO




            “Trixie!
Trixie Collier!” My finger hesitated millimeters from the elevator button as I
heard my name called. The familiar face coming toward me brought a smile.

            “Well, Rudy
James, look at you.” The boy I remembered in his statement-making tattered
jeans, t-shirts with beer logos, and dirty, disreputable tennis shoes had
become a man in fashionable chinos, a monogrammed golf shirt, and expensive
leather loafers. His hair, which had always looked like someone plopped a bowl
over his head and used pinking shears around it, was neatly slicked back in a
ponytail that came to the bottom of his beefy neck.

            He grinned.
“I’d rather look at you. Say, girl, you’re still a razzle-dazzler.”

            I took the
hand he held out. “Thank you, Rudy.”

            “What in
the world are you doing back here in Dreamland?”

            “It’s a
long story.”

            “I’ve got
time to listen if you’ve got time to tell it.” He gestured toward the front
door. “My bar is just across the street.”

            “Your bar?”

            “The
Twilight Bar, Rudy James, proprietor. But that’s not all I do.”

            “This I’ve
got to see.”

            He offered
me his arm. “Then let’s go. There’s a booth in the back with our names on it.”

            Through the
dim lighting, I could still see the quality furnishings and subdued décor. The
back wall, covered in tiny twinkling lights, looked like a starry night over
Lake Ouachita. The leather on the booth we slid into smelled new.

            “I just
opened a year ago,” he said. A young waitress, definitely not the scantily-clad
sort who usually found employment in small bars, came over to the table almost
before I could lay my purse on the seat. “What’ll it be, Trixie?” Rudy asked.

            “I’m still
not much of a drinker,” I admitted.

            He smiled. “Bring
the young lady a cherry lime,” he told the waitress. “I’ll have the same.”

            “Rudy,
Rudy, Rudy, a cherry lime? I’ve seen you stewed.”

            “Not
anymore, Trix.”

            “What
happened?”

            “Oh, I hung
out for a year after we graduated. Then my parents kicked me out and told me to
get a life. So I did.”

            I raised my
eyebrows. Denny and Sally James’ Chicken Shack had been a favorite with all of
us, as much for their personal hospitality as for the crispy chicken and potato
salad served up in generous proportions at a special student price. “How are
your parents?”

            His smile
faded. “Dad’s in a nursing home in Russellville. Stroke. Mom moved into an
apartment over there so she could be with him.”

            “I’m so
sorry, Rudy.”

            “Yeah, it
was a bad one. Happened one day when he was opening up the Shack.”

            “Your
parents are good people.”

            “I’m trying
to live up to them.” Our cherry limes came, and he slipped his straw out of the
paper wrapper.  From somewhere I heard
the muted strains of Twilight Time.
It seemed to inspire the other patrons in the almost-full room to soften their
voices, too. “When I applied at UAR, the registrar suggested I clean myself up
and come back with more than a silly grin on my face. I made myself
presentable, found my birth certificate, and got a transcript from the high
school. My grades were only so-so, but they let me in, and I did a business
degree in three years.”

            “That’s
wonderful, Rudy.”

            “Then I got
my insurance license and opened up an office in town. I think people gave me
their business more out of curiosity than anything else.”

            “Bad boy
makes good.” I reached across the table and touched his arm. “I’m proud of you.”

            “I’ve done
well, but I’ve worked hard at it. I bought some rental property on the west
side of town. It’s doing pretty well. It paid for the Twilight last year. The
sale of the Shack is keeping my folks going, but I’m proud to say I can step in
if I have to.”

            “Why a bar?”

            “The
downtown area is dying, Trixie. You must’ve seen in. I got this building for a
song and tried to think of something that would bring people back to this area.”

            “I drove in
after dark, so I haven’t seen much.”

            “Take my
word for it then, and have a look around while you’re here.” He took another
sip of his drink. “Which segues to the question, why are you here?”

            I tried to
gather my thoughts. “You know about Ned, of course.”

            He nodded. “I
was at the graveside military rights,” he said. “You didn’t see me, and I didn’t
think it was the time to bother you.”

            “You were?
That was nice of you, Rudy.”

            “Ned was a
good guy. It’s a damn shame he didn’t end up a general.”

            “He would
have, too.”

            “You’ve
been all right, I guess.”

            “No
financial worries. I have an antique business in Dallas. But to answer your
question, I came back to do something about the building Grandfather Lloyd left
me.”

            “The one on
the south side of the square?The Quimby Building?”

            “Quimby
Lloyd. I’d forgotten he called the building by his first name.”

            “You’ve got
a nice piece of real estate there, Trix. But I guess you know that.”

            “Parker
Aiken, Jr., has a buyer for it.”

            Rudy’s jaw
tightened. “I’ll just bet he does.”

            “What does
that mean?”

            “It means
he’s trying to buy up the whole downtown area. I outbid him on this building
when it came up for delinquent taxes.”

            “What does
he want with all of it? You said the downtown was dying.”

            “Ah, but he
wants to revive it, just not as a downtown area.” He leaned across the table. “Most
of the county offices have already been moved out of the courthouse. It has
structural issues, but it’s over a hundred years old. Get rid of that, tear
down the other buildings—or renovate the newer ones—and…”

            “Not the
Lloyd House!” My voice rose, and unexpected tears sprang to my eyes.

            He nodded. “Sorry,
kiddo, it would go, too.”

            “I don’t
even know who owns it now. My mother, I guess.”

            “Nope, she
let it go about the time I opened my office. I know that because I wrote the policy
on it for the new owners. They’re not local. Just bought it for investment
purposes.”

            “The Lloyd
House is a landmark in this town.”

            “For now.”

            “What does
Parker Aiken want to do with downtown?”

            “I wish I
knew. Ostensibly he’s buying it up for himself, but I expect someone else is
behind him. Some development outfit. I’ve heard rumors that the entire area and
then some is being looked at for a giant medical supply business. And nobody I
talk to likes the idea. The town’s economy is sound. We always need new
business, sure, but not some conglomerate gobbling us up.”

            I gritted
my teeth to hold back the tears. “Well, he’s not going to get my building.”

            Rudy studied
me for a minute. “Don’t make a hasty decision based on sentiment, Trix. They’ll
offer you a fair-to-middling price and go up if you hold out for more.”

            “Read my
lips,” I said. “That building is mine, and it’s going to stay mine.”

            He sat back
against the tufted leather seat. “That’s not going to be a popular decision
with Parker—and a few others.”

            “You said
people don’t like the idea of…”

            “I said
nobody I talked to. The town is by no means united in its opinions.”

            “How much
of the downtown has Mr. Aiken been able to buy up so far?”

            “Most of
the east side, and he’s negotiating for the rest. How about breakfast in the
morning? Then I’ll give you a little informational tour of your hometown.”

            I
hesitated. “You didn’t mention a Mrs. James.”

            “There is
one, Trix, but we’re separated. She left me for her own reasons, but I haven’t
filed for divorce, and I don’t plan to. I think we can work things out.”

            “Do I know
her?”

            “Sure.
Delores Jefferson. I’ll tell you some things tomorrow, okay? But you don’t have
to worry about me putting the moves on you. Breakfast and a ride, that’s it.”

           

Meet Me Tonight in Dreamland - Chapter One

CHAPTER
ONE




            I
pulled over when I saw the sign: 
DREAMLAND pop 11,932 and hunched over the wheel of my three-year-old
Lexus. Meet me tonight in Dreamland…after
the winning goal…Meet me tonight in Dreamland…On victorious we’ll roll…Come
with all praise and honor…on every lip and tongue…Meet me Dreamland, great, oh,
great Dreamland…There let us all be one.

The words of our
high school fight song, a 1910 romantic ballad refashioned to suit our
purposes, ran through my mind despite the dozen years since I’d last sung them.
In retrospect, they were corny, but as students, we’d thought them quite
clever. I closed my eyes and pictured Ned waiting on the thirty yard line,
dripping with sweat but smiling as I threw down my pom-poms and ran out to walk
him off the field. The football captain and the cheerleader…we were the picture-perfect
pair for the entire three years at Dreamland High.

            Then
I pictured his flag-draped steel casket as it was carried to the open grave at
Little Rock National Cemetery. It was the only image I had of him in death,
because officials  deemed his body not viewable
after the accident.

            I
shivered as I checked my side mirror and eased back onto the highway. Maybe
coming back hadn’t been such a good idea after all. Someone could have handled
my business. Mother, Grandfather’s attorney, even my father. I’d considered
those options more than once. Only when I found myself packing did I realize
that going home was inevitable, whether I wanted to do it or not.

****

            Mother’s
condo in one of the new developments on the west side of Dreamland reeked elitism. I touched the doorbell with
distaste and heard it chime several measures of Mozart, or maybe Beethoven.
After a few minutes, when the door opened, I found myself looking at my own
mirror image: blonde chignon, blue eyes highlighted with gray and lavender
shadow, understated mauve lipstick, and double-pierced ears.

            “Beatrice!”

I leaned in and
planted a dutiful kiss on her cheek. “I wrote you I’d be here tonight.”

            “Well,
yes, but…oh, come on in.”

            Stepping
onto the red-orange Spanish tile, I smelled sandalwood and something else I
couldn’t put my finger on, something from the kitchen. My stomach rumbled,
reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

            “I
only got your letter day before yesterday, and something’s come up.”

            For
the first time I noticed she wore an expensively elegant silk caftan, deep blue
and streaked through with silver threads, a diamond pendant and matching drop
earrings. “You’re going out.”

`           The
tip of her long nose, the only thing I hadn’t inherited from her, grew pink. It
was the closest she ever came to blushing. “Well, no, but…”

            “You’re
having someone in.”

            She
nodded.

            “I
see. Well, I can stay somewhere else tonight. The Lloyd House is still open,
isn’t it?”

            “Yes,
of course. I’m sorry, Bea.”

            “I
understand.” I understood too well. When my mother divorced my father a month
following my graduation from high school, she’d separated from me, too. Taking
back her maiden name—Lloyd—she’d reinvented herself as an independent woman and moved on with her life. I became just an
inconvenient reminder of the years she’d spent as Mrs. Clark Collier.

            Moving
my overnight bag to the other shoulder, I retraced the two steps I’d taken
inside the tiled foyer. “Bea, I really am sorry, but as I told you, this trip
wasn’t necessary. Parker Aiken already has a buyer for the building, and…”

            “It’s
all right, Mother. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

            “Yes,
tomorrow. We’ll have lunch at the club and discuss everything.”

            “Goodnight,
Mother,” I called over my shoulder before I stepped into the elevator. The man
who exited, a Robert Mitchum type, broad of shoulder and clefted of chin, was
probably my mother’s something that came up. After the door closed, I let
myself laugh.

****

            The Lloyd House, easily the finest
structures on Dreamland’s declining downtown square, seemed more welcoming that
my mother’s condo. A desk clerk, wearing the suit and tie my grandfather had
insisted on for all his employees in every enterprise, assured me of a vacancy
and asked what type of accommodations I preferred.

            He wasn’t aware, of course, that I
knew there were only two types—single rooms and three suites on the third floor.
“A single will be fine,” I said, pushing my credit card across the polished
desk. I signed the register—guests at the Lloyd House had never filled out and
initialed printed pages such as were common in all other hotels—and handed him
the keys to my car. “I have two bags,” I said, knowing someone would bring them
to my room almost before I unlocked the door.

            He didn’t ask how long I’d be
staying. That, too, was verboten at my
grandfather’s elegant establishment. A guest was a guest for as long as a guest
wanted to stay. While I waited for the single elevator, I observed the people
mingling under the brightly-lit chandeliers above the lobby. Despite all the
amenities and reasonable room rates, the twenty-three room hotel had never
disappointed financially. Often travelers with business in Little Rock or Hot
Springs drove the extra miles just to enjoy the old-world ambiance that marked
this hotel.

            After unpacking, I went downstairs
to the small café which stayed open until ten o’clock to accommodate guests and
townspeople alike. At eight-o’clock, it was still half full. As I waited for my
meal, I considered where I was and why.

            When Grandfather Lloyd died four
years ago, Ned and I had been in Germany. Mother scheduled the funeral almost
immediately, without considering my need for time to arrange travel. But his
attorney, Parker Aiken, Sr., had written that Grandfather had left me the building
where he’d had his offices and from where he’d run the many enterprises in
Dreamland and surrounding Pulaski County, the ones which had made him a
millionaire several times over.

            Ned thought it strange that my only
legacy as an only grandchild was a building, not a monetary bequest. “It’s
something he would do,” I said. “He knows we don’t need anything since you
inherited a fortune from your own grandparents.”

            “We don’t use it,” he reminded me. “We
agreed to sock it away for a rainy day and live on my military pay.”

            “We’re all right,” I assured him. “Besides,
you’ll be a general before all this is over. And then we’ll retire and travel
the world.”

            I remembered his laughter at the
prediction, but it might have come true. He’d received a promotion to major
just after returning from Germany. Six weeks later, he was dead. Now I was the
sole heir of his grandparents’ wealth, which was well-invested so I could live
more than comfortably off the income alone. I’d also opened a successful
antique business which generated even more income to invest. On top of that,
the bottom floor of Grandfather’s building was leased to two sisters, Stella
and Letha Drake, who ran a well-patronized dress shop. They sent me a sizable
check every six months.

            So why was I here? The junior Parker
Aiken, a real estate entrepreneur, had written to advise me the lease had been
cancelled due to the advancing age and ill health of the two sisters. However,
he assured me he could find a buyer to take the responsibility off my hands.
Something nudged my curiosity. I couldn’t explain why I wanted to see the
building one more time while I still owned it, but there it was—the reason I
was back in Dreamland.

           

           







           

           

A Blog, A Series

Recently I ran across a free download on blogging from the SPR (Self-Publishing Resources) website.  You have to subscribe to their free monthly ezine.) "Jump Start Your Blog in 28 Days:  Blogging Checklist for Self-Publishers and Authors". Most of us who have been blogging for a while tend to discount "how-to" articles, but I ran across a few things I hadn't thought about.



The point which caught my eye was the suggestion to do a series on one's blog. That's more or less what I do--post a series of resources for writers, and it's worth continuing to do. But I'm wondering if another kind of series might be worthwhile. I've been busy with the Penelope Pembroke Cozy Mystery Series You can get an introduction to them and read Chapter 1 of the first book, The Bogus Biker, at my website . With working on editing, getting reviews, and creating covers, I haven't been writing anything new--and I miss the creativity.



A while back, I came up with the idea for another series, so it occurs to me now I might give that one away for free right here on this blog. It wouldn't take the place of blogging about writing resources but would be in addition to, and I'd post more often.



So meet thirty-ish Beatrice "Trixie" Collier Blake, widow of Major Ned Blake, USAF, who returns to her hometown of Dreamland, Arkansas, to view a turn-of-the-century building left to her by her grandfather. When she decides to open an antique shop and, hopefully, help revitalize the dying downtown area, she meets opposition from some of the town's movers and shakers who just don't want it to happen. Then the mayor-elect (who also just happens to be Trixie's mother's longtime boyfriend) is found dead on the building's second floor which Trixie is remodeling into a loft apartment for herself, and Trixie doesn't have an airtight alibi.



Expect the first chapter of Trixie Collier Blake and Death in Downtown Dreamland on Monday, March 11--or before!







Subscribe to Our Newsletter


Sign
up for our monthly ezine Websites, Wisdom, & Whimsy, and download
“JUMP START YOUR BLOG IN 28 DAYS: Blogging Checklist for Authors &
Self-Publishers” absolutely free!


- See more at: http://selfpublishingresources.com/?s...

Subscribe to Our Newsletter


Sign
up for our monthly ezine Websites, Wisdom, & Whimsy, and download
“JUMP START YOUR BLOG IN 28 DAYS: Blogging Checklist for Authors &
Self-Publishers” absolutely free!


- See more at: http://selfpublishingresources.com/?s...

Organizing 101

It's tax time, so as I get my information together to take to the preparer, I alternately bless or curse my organization or lack thereof. While I'll admit to having to look up a couple of things this year, I'm also patting myself on the back for having neatly filed pertinent receipts and statements. The couple I was missing (probably because I forgot to print them out!) were found neatly cataloged in my PayPal history and on a credit card statement. In the internet age, ordering something online with "plastic" is both a bane and a blessing, but at least the information is available!



Speaking of the internet, do you subscribe to newsletters? Do you read them immediately and delete or move them to a folder? Or do they sit in your inbox until they're edging toward the bottom of page four?



I like to keep my inbox(es) cleaned out, so I only move to a folder one of the several newsletters to which I subscribe. The others I read, follow links, copy and past articles, and save those in pertinent folders in My Documents. I always go back and copy the link and paste that at the very bottom of the article. It's handy for sharing on blogs, Twitter, etc. without having to go back and try to find the article online.



Of course, that clutters up My Documents, so periodically I go there and move each saved document to its proper folder or create a new one. I also keep a folder called "Books Info". Inside are folders for each of five novels I've published, and inside each folder are other folders for covers, press releases, tag lines, blurbs and excerpts, promotional loops I've posted to, marketing specifics, video trailers, related pictures, contract information, buy links, the original submission, and even the final PDF. I've found this a great way to have the information for a specific book at my fingertips when I need it.



I try to back up everything regularly on two flash drives and one external hard drive, but I'm not as conscientious as I ought to be.



Then there are my online "bookmarks". I have a bad habit of just clicking "Save this page" rather than searching for the folder in which it belongs. Then I have to go back and move things around. That's one of the things I'm working on--do it right the first time! 



In my filing cabinet--the one that sits by my desk, not my computer, I keep my research material filed alphabetically. Trying to break it down by subject can get confusing, so it's easier to remember that if I want something about "World War II", I just go to "W". I may have to plow through printed material on "Washington" and "Wind Surfing", but I can put my hands on what I need.



The system I have going works for me, and that's what it's all about--whatever works for the person. But if you have any tips to share, feel free!